


All Alone in the World

by barefootinthesunshine



Category: Les Misérables (TV 2018), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bathing/Washing, Confessions, Desk Sex, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Marriage, May/December Relationship, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romantic Fluff, Scar Worship, Sexual Content, Shyness, Surprise Kissing, and then raise cosette together, because it's what they all deserve, in which fantine and valjean fall in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22275898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barefootinthesunshine/pseuds/barefootinthesunshine
Summary: When Valjean returned with Cosette, it was a day as warm and effulgent as the smile on Fantine's face. As a swell of emotion formed in his throat, he realized he would do anything for that smile.(Wildly AU Valjean x Fantine. Sexual content warning.)
Relationships: Cosette Fauchelevent & Jean Valjean, Fantine & Cosette Fauchelevent, Fantine & Cosette Fauchelevent & Jean Valjean, Fantine & Jean Valjean, Fantine/Jean Valjean
Comments: 60
Kudos: 50





	1. The Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! To clear up any confusion, despite the summary information provided, I refer to Valjean as M. Madeleine since I switch between Valjean and Fantine's POVs. Even though I plan on eventually having him tell her the truth, I doubt I'll change the narrative to Valjean over Madeleine. I just thought for the sake of the summary, it would be less confusing.
> 
> With that in mind, the summary sentence is actually from my last chapter, so don't be expecting Cosette until then!
> 
> I also wanted everyone to know that while writing this, I had the 2018 miniseries in mind, so I apologize for any inaccuracies toward the book or musical. I haven't read the book yet, and it's been a long, LONG time since I've seen the musical, so I'm honestly not drawing from either of those for this story. I've always really liked the Valjean/Fantine relationship (and lowkey shipped the 2012 version), but when I saw the 2018 portrayal, I felt there was a lot of subtext, so I naturally had to write this since I couldn't find any fics with them as a romantic focus. I hope you enjoy!

Fantine looked sickly. With her large, shiny eyes rimmed with bags far darker than bruises, Madeleine's concern couldn't help but mount. She needed something... Food, perhaps? A warm, clean bed? Despite such offers bordering on the improper, he knew he couldn't allow her to deteriorate beneath his employ. He wasn't certain what it was about her, exactly, but her very appearance stirred the long-forgotten compassion that laid dormant within his heart. Any time she was near, he could feel it surge in crashing waves.

"Mademoiselle Thibeau!"

Fantine looked up at his approach, her lips lifting into a pleasant, world weary smile. No matter what the occasion, she always stopped to smile at him. Some days, he wondered if he was even deserving of the simple courtesy.

With the rest of the employees filing out for the day, Madeleine felt more at ease to speak freely. "You are unwell," he said. "I was hoping you might join me for supper this evening."

Smile slowly fading, Fantine looked to him in surprise. _"Supper,_ Monsieur? I have never...I-I mean..."

"You are waifish and small," he cut in. "Is it wrong to believe you're in need of a good meal?"

Flushing slightly, Fantine shook her head. "I do not wish to be a charity case, Monsieur. You have already done so much for me, and-"

"Please be there at eight."

"Oh, but-"

"My servant, Gabrielle, shall let you in."

Eyes wide, Fantine began to nervously wring her hands. Ever since Félix, she had grown wary of kind men with pleasant smiles. Trusting wholeheartedly was foolish. Nevertheless, she managed a soft, "Is what I am presently wearing suitable?"

Madeleine appeared taken aback. "Do not be silly."

"...Is that a yes?"

Finally, he cracked a smile. Reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, Madeleine assured her, "You needn't bother with fancy trappings, Fantine. I merely wish for your company. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh..." Fantine looked down at his hand, and almost guiltily, he returned it to his side.

"I will see you at eight," he said. "Bring nothing but your appetite."

Finally, Fantine's smile returned, completely beatific in its luminescence. "Thank you, Monsieur. I will be there."

* * *

When Fantine arrived at Madeleine's manor, she was instantly afraid to touch anything, even the walls. His finery was far more than she could afford, and the thought made her nervous. What if she were to break something?

"Monsieur Madeleine is in the dining room," Gabrielle announced with a smile. She was a pleasant-faced, plump redhead with shiny brown eyes. "Oh, just look at you! Such a darling little thing. Have you been in town long? I don't recall seeing you around..."

"It is a large place, Madame," Fantine murmured. Clutching her shawl, she felt the tension mount when she passed through double doors that gave way to a large, high ceilinged dining room. Madeleine sat reading at the far end of the table.

"Good evening, Monsieur," Gabrielle said. "Your guest has arrived."

Looking up, Madeleine set his book aside. "Thank you, Gabrielle. You may tend to supper now."

As the maid left the room, he rose and strode toward Fantine's side of the table. He pulled out her chair and inclined his head, indicating that she sit.

"Thank you, Monsieur." Shyly, Fantine sank into the offered seat. "What were you reading just now?"

"Oh, nothing of import. I was barely digesting it, truth be told."

Fantine looked up at him incredulously. "Were I able to read, I would hang on to every word. You are quite lucky, Monsieur." Chewing her lip, she added, "Do you happen to have a library?"

"I do, indeed."

"I should like to see it, if I may...I like to look at books." She smiled self-consciously. "Perhaps that sounds absurd, but I love the look and smell of them."

Madeleine mirrored her smile, warmed by her candor. "It isn't absurd at all," he assured her. "After supper, I would be delighted to show you my library. I daresay it doesn't get much use these days."

Enchanted by the offer, Fantine nodded, and Gabrielle re-emerged with a large serving tray. To Fantine's surprise (and delight), a small pheasant and a bowl of stew with bread were set before her.

"Oh," she breathed, completely awed. "Is this all for me?"

With a low chuckle, Madeleine returned to his side of the table and had a seat. "It is, indeed. As I've said, you are waifish and small. I may not be able to cure all of the world's ailments, but I can at the very least start with helping you."

Fantine smiled, and after her goblet had been filled with wine, she raised it toward him in a shy salute. "Thank you, Monsieur."

"Please, you needn't thank me every two seconds. Your companionship is all the gratitude I need." Catching Gabrielle's questioning look, he added, "That will be all, Gabrielle. Thank you."

She curtsied and bustled off, leaving the two in silence.

Despite Fantine's desire to be a lady, she could scarcely mirror her host's careful, even bites when there was so much wonderful food to be had. She dipped her bread in the stew and crammed a large bite into her mouth, a soft moan filling her throat at the relief of having food – good, _substantial_ food – in her mouth.

Madeleine had to chuckle. "It is sufficient, I take it?"

Embarrassed, Fantine swallowed the large bite. "Yes, um...yes, forgive me. My mother would swoon, were she able to see how I've just conducted myself."

"No harm done. In this instance, I'd say hunger trumps decorum." Taking a sip of wine, Madeleine watched with amusement as Fantine attempted much smaller, more manageable bites. "Now, then," he said. "You have spoken of loving the look and smell of books, but I know very little else about you. Will you allow me the pleasure of learning your proclivities?"

Picking at the pheasant with her fingers, Fantine noted how Madeleine was using silverware and, after yet another burst of mortification, she gathered up her own knife and fork and cut into the bird. "I am afraid I'm not all that remarkable," she said. "You are feeding me out of the goodness of your heart, so truly – you needn't trouble yourself with me."

Madeleine frowned. "As I've told you before, I make it a point to concern myself with _all_ my employees."

"W-well yes, but I am a grisette...why would-?"

"Why would I _concern_ myself?" Irritable, he gathered up a forkful of meat. "I was not born into wealth, Fantine. Despite all that I have – all that I've _earned_ – I am not incapable of seeing the value of human life."

Fantine blinked a moment, astonished. "Forgive me, I...I was not aware."

Madeleine said nothing, his eyes downcast as he ate.

Guilted into speech, Fantine finally offered, "I am good with my hands... If given any type of tool or textile, I can most assuredly come up with some type of unique creation."

Madeleine raised his eyes again. "That is a skill, Fantine, and one I am all too happily aware of. Do you not have any hobbies? Hopes or dreams?"

With a nervous little laugh, she looked down at her plate. "Oh, I don't know... I've never truly thought about it."

_"Never?"_

"Who has the time for such idleness? I suppose I like to sing, but I'm not _good_ at it, and...well..." She scrunched her brow in thought. "I enjoy dancing too, but that pastime is a bit tainted now, I must admit." She thought of Félix with his crooked, mischievous smile, and her heart plummeted. She sighed. "As I've said, I am rather unremarkable."

"I hardly believe that."

Brows drawing inward, Fantine laughed. "With all due respect, Monsieur, you barely even know me – nor I you."

Madeleine nodded, considering this. "Perhaps that will one day change." Fantine gawped back at him, uncertain as he added, "Are you finished with your meal?"

"Oh, um...yes, but-"

"Then come! I promised you a look at my library, so that is precisely what we'll do."

With a disbelieving smile, Fantine rose with the help of his hand, and then she trailed after him into the hallway. He was so kind and gentle... The urge to tell him the truth – the _real_ truth – was overwhelming, but for the sake of her dear Cosette, she held her tongue and followed at a respectable distance.

"Here we are," Madeleine announced. Leading her across the threshold, he smiled and gestured to the bountiful shelves. "I trust the look and smells meet to your fancy?"

With a sheepish giggle, Fantine clasped her hands and gaily stepped forward. "I have never in my life seen so many books!" she declared. "Oh, if only I could read them all... I imagine I am missing out on some _wonderful_ adventures." Wistful, she reached out and touched the spine of a particularly large tome.

Expression softening, Madeleine said, "I could teach you, if you'd like...in fact, not so long ago, I taught myself."

Fantine looked up at him in surprise. "Me? B-but..."

"We would start with teaching you to write," he said. "In order to read, you must first learn the alphabet."

Overwhelmed, tears sprang to Fantine's eyes and she drew a soft, shuddery breath. "Do you truly mean that, Monsieur?"

"I do, indeed."

Breaking into an ebullient grin, she nodded and quickly wiped her tears. "Oh, look at me," she bemoaned. "I am a true mess!"

"A mess who shall soon be literate," Madeleine assured her, taking pleasure in the warm, surging light that danced across her eyes. "If it pleases you, we can have a lesson each day after your shift."

Fantine nodded, trying not to appear too eager. "Oh, yes, that would be lovely. Thank you _so_ much, Monsieur."

"Think nothing of it," Madeleine said. "If you truly wish to express your gratitude, you will cease with the constant praise and apologies."

"Oh...yes. Sorry, Monsieur. Ah...sorry."

His mouth quirked into a smile. "If you would prefer, I can also ready you a bed after each lesson."

Fantine blinked, startled by the unexpected generosity. "Oh, um...though I appreciate the gesture, that is _hardly_ necessary."

"You are clearly tired, Fantine, and I will _not_ have my employees nodding off on the job. I shan't take no for an answer."

Madeleine drew in closer, and unable to help it, Fantine found herself gazing up into his large, kind eyes. Félix had had kind eyes, too...

 _No._ Monsieur Madeleine was _nothing_ like her boorish former lover, and it physically pained her to make the comparison.

"You are far too kind," she finally whispered. "Might I at the very least repay you in some way? I have a little money..."

"All the better to keep, is it not?" Madeleine shrugged. "Trust me, dear girl, giving you an education is all the payment I require."

Fantine beamed, shyly twisting her hands. "You are a very strange man, Monsieur. Anyone else would surely have taken advantage."

"Is that what you have grown accustomed to?"

Smile fading, she nodded. "Yes. There is very little truth to be found on the tongues of most men."

"And yet you believe me?"

She shrugged, gnawing on her lip. "I suppose I have no choice, Monsieur. But if you truly had deceit in mind, I believe it would have already been plainly presented."

"I would sooner cast off my own hand than harm you, Fantine. I trust you have suffered enough in this lifetime."

"Why?" she asked, overcome. "Could you truly see all that just by looking at me?"

Hesitant, Madeleine lifted a hand and brushed back a wayward lock of her hair. "As I have said many times now, you are waifish and small. It is not difficult to make such assumptions."

With her heart in her throat, Fantine allowed him the inappropriate touch. It was rather disappointing to know he couldn't see her – _truly_ see her.

Finally seeming to grasp their personal space (or lack thereof), Madeleine cleared his throat and stepped away from her, disquieted by his own lack of propriety. "I will have Gabrielle prepare you a bed," he muttered. "If you are ever in need of anything, you are free to call upon her."

Fantine scrunched her face, bemused by the sharp, indescribable loss from his withdrawal. "With all due respect, Monsieur, I could never imagine being waited upon. I will be fine on my own."

"If you insist." Lightly pressing her elbow, he indicated that she follow. "Your bedroom will be upstairs, just to the right of the banister. Should you require anything, Gabrielle is just down the hall."

"And you, Monsieur?" Flushing, Fantine quickly amended, "I-I mean, are you upstairs, as well?"

With a smile, he took her hand. "Goodnight, Fantine. You are in need of rest." Bending at the waist, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and the sensation jolted through her like a warm, heady spark. When he withdrew again, she feared that her face was a brilliant crimson.

"Goodnight, Monsieur," she whispered. He smiled warmly at her and she smiled back, a bubble of hope dancing within her breast.


	2. A Lapse of Sanity

Unsurprisingly, Fantine was a fast learner. Just like with her factory work, she'd adapted remarkably well to Madeleine's lessons, and after about four months' time, had developed a decent hold on basic words and phrases. Her penmanship, though still sloppy, was improving by the day.

"Monsieur!" she called, curled up on a chair in his study. "Might you help me sound out this word?"

Looking up from his desk, Madeleine smiled and promptly rose to his feet, the corners of his eyes crinkling warmly at her fervor. "But of course, Fantine," he agreed. "Point it out to me."

Lifting her book as he approached, she pointed to the word "virile" and looked up at him expectantly. Madeleine bent down and peered over her shoulder, his cheek practically brushing her own as he appraised the page.

"Ah," he said, "virile. Say it with me, won't you?"

Fantine tensed, a slight shiver coursing down her spine. His voice, though always pleasant, positively rumbled and melded into her at such close proximity.

"Fantine?"

She swallowed past the dryness in her throat, then nodded quickly. "Yes, um...vire... _vee_ -ruh..."

"Virile," Madeleine said again. "Veer- _ull."_

"And it means...?"

"It's the essential characteristics of a man, such as physical strength and other masculine qualities."

"Oh, so like you?"

Madeleine laughed then, incredulous. "You flatter me, dear girl."

She blinked up at him, not finding the humor. "I am not accustomed to giving falsehoods, Monsieur. Or at least...not of this nature."

Madeleine noticed a slight darkening around her eyes, but decided not to press her on the matter. "Shall we go for a walk then?"

She perked up at that, and he found himself glad for being able to restore her warm, pleasant spark. She was like a sylph enraptured by moonlight, small and glowing amidst her radiance. In truth, it bothered Madeleine that he took notice. He was middle-aged and jaded, while she was still young and beyond the crushing fist of despair. It would behoove him to keep her at arm's length.

"Monsieur?"

He flinched, shaking his head while following Fantine toward the side door. "Yes?"

Brow furrowing, she waited a beat before asking, "How much do you value the truth?"

_The truth?_

A slight pallor overcame his face, but he shrugged it off and led her down into the lush, blooming garden behind his manor. "I value it as much as the next man," he assured her. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason, I just...with all the knowledge I am absorbing, I find myself becoming more existential, I suppose."

Madeleine smiled, pleased that she'd incorporated a word she'd learned the week prior. "There is nothing wrong with contemplating the trappings of your own life," he agreed.

Chewing her lip, Fantine suddenly stopped and regarded him warily. "Trappings?"

"Yes."

"Like...matrimony? Children?"

Smile slowly fading, Madeleine elevated his shoulders. "Perhaps..."

"And what about you, Monsieur?" Courage growing, Fantine pressed, "You are easily one of the kindest, most considerate men I have ever met, and yet you have no wife? No family?"

"I..." Clearing his throat, Madeleine ignored the tightness in his chest and looked away. "Unfortunately, I have allowed the ravages of time to overtake me. There was never an opportune moment to wed."

_"Never?"_

Irritated by her barrage of questions, Madeleine nailed her in place with a disapproving scowl. "Truly, what concern is this of yours?" he demanded. "My affairs are not to be trifled with, even by someone I consider wholly dear."

Fantine brightened, her lips lifting in spite of his chastisement. "You consider me... _dear?"_

Instantly realizing his mistake, Madeleine tensed his fists and straightened his stance. A faint, ruddy hue nipped at his cheeks, yet the severe slant of his mouth belied any embarrassment.

"I hold you quite dearly as well," Fantine assured him. Her soft, dare he think it _enamored_ gaze caused Madeleine to falter, and the lines in his brow smoothed as he regarded her warily.

"You should not take my affections so deeply into account," he warned. "If anything, my feelings have blinded me toward all objectivity."

His rebuff, though an attempt at restoring order, merely succeeded in further provoking Fantine.

With her pretty eyes aglow, she lifted a hand and laid it flat against Madeleine's freshly shaven cheek. He flinched, unaccustomed to touch – nay, _tenderness._ Any time someone had raised a hand toward him in the past, it had been to strike – to _maim._ Fantine's softness coupled with her warm, brilliant smile did little to assuage the pounding in his chest.

"Fantine..." His throat closed around her name, and Madeleine found himself cursing his inability to compose himself. Damn this confounding woman – god _damn_ her!

His emotion, despite being mostly subdued, shone achingly in his eyes, and Fantine tilted her chin as though basking in his affection. He loved her – she _knew_ he did! Over these past several months, she had found herself drawn to him like a lighthouse on shore, and couldn't help but feel that he returned her sentiment. With a look of determination crossing her face, Fantine tugged on his waistcoat and crashed his mouth down over hers.

The shock of the kiss was immediate. Madeleine was so lonely, so _touch-starved,_ that his hands instantly moved to frame her face. Fantine gripped at his raiment, her sweet mouth pressing urgently into his with a messy, ardent fervor while his fingers laced through her hair. _Fantine, Fantine..._ A soft groan caught in his throat, and then Madeleine deepened the kiss with a glossing of tongues.

Fantine whimpered into his open mouth. Her fingers tangled through his hair, and then she pleadingly yanked him down closer, forcing their kiss to escalate in aggression. Her shaking hands dipped beneath his collar, and her eager fingers glided over several rope-like, uneven hash marks – raised _flesh._

Madeleine broke the kiss with a panicked breath. Furious over her unspoken offense, he took hold of her wrists and yanked her free from his scars. Chin tensing, his eyes suddenly hardened to flint. "You must go home, Fantine. I think we're finished for today."

Her eyes widened in shock. "B-but Monsieur!"

"Go _home,_ damn you! Leave!"

"I will not!" Chin raising in defiance, Fantine once more moved to cup his face. "You have saved me from poverty, illness, and surely death, so you cannot make me hate you – you cannot make me _abandon_ you!"

For just a moment, Fantine caught a pained flash of longing and regret in his eyes – of yearning and desire and _need_ for what she could offer – yet just as quickly, the crack in his composure closed.

Livid, Madeleine tore her hands from his face and roughly gripped her arm. "Come with me," he spat, pulling her toward the gate door. "If you refuse to leave, I shall _throw_ you out!"

"But Monsieur! My heart...oh, I feel so much for you that I ache!"

Face growing pinched, Madeleine looked down at her with a mixture of pity and disdain. "You have _no_ love for me," he spat. "I am incapable of being loved."

"But-!"

He ripped open the gate, and dizzily, Fantine staggered over the threshold. He closed it not long after with a great and final clang.

"What of our lessons?" she asked, desperate. "Are you still to teach me?"

Miserable, Madeleine averted his gaze. "I trust that you have learned more than enough on this day, Mademoiselle Thibeau. Good day."

"But _Monsieur!"_ Gripping at the iron fence, tears spilled down her cheeks as he turned to leave. With gritted teeth, she furiously called after him, "You are a coward, Monsieur Madeleine! A _coward!"_

He ducked into his manor in a guilted rush, no longer able to face her bright, tearful eyes, nor the sharpness of her mouth that had brought him so much pleasure and peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I feel like this took forever to get inspiration for again! I'm so sorry! Fortunately, I've already started on CH 3, so I don't foresee that being an issue again. It's going to be a smutty update, so apologies (or "you're welcomes") in advance. I'd also like to take this time to give a HUGE thank you to **ladymelodrama,** my only reviewer, and truly the only reason I continued this to begin with! Thank you for being such a lovely source of inspiration! <3


	3. Confessions

No matter what he tried, Madeleine couldn’t get Fantine Thibeau out of his head. Or more specifically, her soft and gentle caress – the scent of her skin and the taste of her warm, giving mouth. He had tried everything to forget her – _everything_ – most of which included lies and avoidance. The first few days after their kiss, Madeleine had stayed home with a feigned illness. And Lord above, it _was_ an illness – an ailment so acute that he went to bed each night with a hand curled between his legs. In all his latter days, he had never once thought that someone, least of all a girl so _maddening_ could ever ignite in him a bright, passionate flame.

Unfortunately, Madeleine's servant had taken notice of his odd behavior. When Fantine’s usual lessons came and went, Gabrielle had immediately asked where the young woman was. He could lie to himself, but _not_ to Gabrielle – she was far too astute. Grudgingly, he told her Fantine was otherwise detained, and that he would send word to her in the morning.

And he did. Heaven help him, Madeleine _did_ miss Fantine, and found it harder and harder to stay away from her. Something would have to be done about that…

* * *

Fantine was stunned by Madeleine’s invitation. After a full week of being completely ignored, she couldn’t fathom the sudden olive branch. Or at least, she _assumed_ it was a peace offering. Madeleine had made his stance quite clear on his feelings, and she knew better than to hope for more.

After selecting a simple blue frock – she’d always been told that color brought out the soft, radiant hue of her eyes – Fantine nervously stood waiting outside of the Madeleine manor. She knocked again, and the door opened not long after.

“Oh! Mademoiselle Thibeau!” Gabrielle cried, ebullient. “Goodness, it is so lovely to see your face! Monsieur Madeleine will be thrilled.”

Bemused, Fantine self-consciously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. _“Thrilled?_ But…”

“Come in, come in!” Ushering the girl inside, Gabrielle closed the door behind them and motioned for Fantine to follow. “He is presently in his study. I trust he won’t mind the intrusion, so come right this way.”

Still terribly perplexed, Fantine followed the portly woman until they came to the large, open entryway of Madeleine’s study.

Gabrielle rapped on the doorframe. “Monsieur?”

Madeleine lifted his head from his papers. “Yes?”

“Mademoiselle Thibeau has arrived.”

“Show her in, please.” With shaking hands, he set his paperwork off to the side, then rose from his desk with far less poise than he’d been hoping.

Fantine entered a moment after, smiling with clear unease.

Gabrielle beamed and began closing the double doors. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The sound of her departure resonated with a loud and final click, and Madeleine motioned toward the chair across from his desk. “Please,” he entreated. “Have a seat.”

Nodding, Fantine twisted her hands and slowly stepped forward. “I must admit, I was surprised to get your invitation,” she said. Sinking into the offered chair, she chewed her lip. “I know you have been avoiding me lately, Monsieur. Are you…? A-are you…?” She couldn’t quite ask if she was in trouble, so instead she pressed her lips into a thin, grim line.

“I know I have been unkind,” Madeleine agreed, “but your words…y-your _behavior…_ they all shocked me. I was unsure of how to properly compose myself. I needed time to think.”

Fantine’s mouth went slack, her heart pounding as she regarded him. “And now…?”

“And _now,_ I have realized that you serve as far too much of a distraction. I have to let you go, Fantine.”

It felt as though a dull, rusted knife were being driven into her heart. “But…b-but _Monsieur!”_ she cried. Brow creasing, she breathed out as though winded. “How am I to go on without this job? I owe people money!”

Tensing his hands, Madeleine looked down at his desk and shook his head. “That is no longer my concern.”

Laughing without humor, Fantine furiously rocketed up from her seat. “I will _not_ be dismissed,” she seethed. “Your cowardice continues, Monsieur Madeleine, because rather than face your feelings head-on, you are tossing me aside!”

The hollow of Madeleine’s cheek twitched. “I have no feelings for you, if that is what you are implying.”

“You do,” she fired back. “If you truly felt nothing for my well-being, why would you have concerned yourself with my meals and education? With my _health?_ You are not some unfeeling monster, and yet for some abhorrent reason, you seem most driven to prove otherwise!”

Finally, Madeleine rose from his seat. “That is quite enough,” he warned. “I am going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I will not – not until I’ve said my piece,” she snarled. “Hear me now, Monsieur: I may not hate you, yourself, but I _certainly_ hate your cruelty and ignorance! If you truly wish to deny yourself of happiness – of someone who _loves_ you – then this is me granting you that foolhardy request!”

Bursting into tears, Fantine broke away from him and raced for the double doors.

Overcome, Madeleine somehow managed to reach her destination first, his limbs trembling as he slammed his weight against her means of escape.

Startled, Fantine narrowed her eyes. “Let me pass,” she commanded. “Since you seem so loyal to your convictions, I demand that you let me through!”

Madeleine shook his head. “You mustn’t leave like this…”

“Then _how_ must I leave? You will not let me love you, and I am tired of pleading with deaf ears!”

Hesitant, Madeleine laid a hand on her shoulder. He truly yearned to touch her face – her hands, her _lips_ – but each option seemed far too bold and intimate.

“You must see reason,” he pleaded. “I am an old fool, and you…you’re…”

“Just as much of a fool, apparently,” she whispered. “I have sensed you have a guarded heart, and yet I find myself wishing to scale the walls encircling it.”

“Why?” Madeleine asked. The word had been choked out, hushed and imploring.

Fantine laughed amidst her tears. “Because you are good and kind…because I _care_ for you, and wish that you could care for me, too.”

“I…I _do_ care, but…” What? Had he been running for so long that he could no longer put up a decent excuse? Could he no longer deny his past? Deny _her?_ Swallowing low in his throat, Madeleine shook his head. “I cannot give you what you require.”

Fantine lifted her chin. “I would prefer that you allow _me_ to decide that, thank you very much. Because from what I have gathered – from what I have witnessed weekly – you are _exactly_ the sort I need.” With a brittle smile, her lips quivered with emotion. “I am not stupid, Monsieur. I have been around enough men to sense a lie when I hear one, and you…” She reached down and took his hands. _“You_ are lying. Not only to me, but to yourself. You _know_ we can make one another happy.”

“But I do not deserve-”

“Who deserves anything?” Fantine spat. “We are not born being owed by the universe, you know. The hand we’ve been dealt is all we have to work with, and sometimes – _sometimes_ – we get lucky enough to have a small reprieve.” She looked up at him with bright, shining eyes. “Will you not allow me to be yours?”

Madeleine quivered. “I just want to protect you,” he whispered, his eyes damp. “Please, Fantine…”

“I am beyond protection,” she whispered back. “In this moment, I only wish to be loved…by _you_ and you alone.”

He raised a shaking hand and laid it against her cheek. She felt soft and warm beneath his calloused fingertips, and he couldn’t help but flinch at the stark contrast. They were so different – he was _unworthy_ – and yet the longer Madeleine gazed into Fantine’s large, pleading eyes, the more he began to see the imperfections. Her once flawless smile now revealed to him a curve of melancholia, and her stalwart gaze held fear and remorse and a weariness that he instantly wished to wipe away. How had he never seen this before? _Why_ had he placed her on a pedestal, disallowing himself to see beyond her sweet, angelic beauty? There was a loss in her eyes that very nearly reflected his own, and the knowledge staggered him.

“I am too old,” he feebly tried again.

“And I have an old soul to match,” Fantine countered. Lifting a hand, she curled her fingers around his own and anchored him to her cheek. “If you are truly so concerned with what I need, you will not deny me what I desire most.”

A light, airy buoyancy blossomed within Madeleine’s chest, and for the first time in years, he smiled – _truly_ smiled. He was not accustomed to being wanted. In between looks of revulsion and distrust over his sins, he never once thought that one day, there would be a sweet, waifish girl with the face of an angel who’d welcome, revere, and possibly even _love_ him.

“You are a fool,” Madeleine whispered. _And God help me, so am I._

Curling his hand around the back of her neck, he leaned down and captured her mouth in a warm, fervent kiss that left him reeling. Her hands slid through his hair, and he held fast to her waist, pressing into her giving mouth as her nails snagged along his scalp. He could sense that she was standing on tiptoe, and somehow, he was stricken by an odd surge of affection for her smallness – her _frailty._

“Wait a moment,” he whispered. Fantine ignored him, her kisses growing all the more bruising as she fumbled with his trousers. “Fantine…”

When she still failed to listen, he gently wrenched her back and held her by the wrists, overwhelmed by the wild, needy look in her eyes and her flushed, kiss-swollen lips. “You must wait,” he said again. “You are young and inexperienced, and-”

“I am _far_ from inexperienced,” she cut in. “You needn’t shield me, Monsieur…my virtue is no longer a cause for concern.”

For just a moment, it felt as though a bucket of icy water had been dumped over his head. A tight pinch formed in Madeleine’s chest, and he tried to ignore the thought of _some_ _boy_ laying hands upon _his Fantine_ in a fumbling, hurried attempt at intimacy.

His shock allowed her just the distraction she needed. Drawing away from him, a decidedly coy smile came to Fantine’s lips, and she backed away until she’d seated herself upon his desk. She raised the hem of her frock, and once an indecent amount of leg came into view, Madeleine rushed over and halted her hands. It had been years – far, _far_ too long – since he had lain with a woman, and it had rest-assuredly never been with someone he cared for this deeply. He didn’t wish to see Fantine exposing herself like some common, tractable whore.

“You mustn’t,” he whispered.

Ignoring him, Fantine curled her legs around his hips and drew him in closer, biting her lip when she attempted to grind down against him. Madeleine staggered and caught himself against the desk, breathing out as though winded. _“God…”_

Bringing her lips to his throat, she arched up into his hardness and whined against his skin, lightheaded over the feel of him pressing into where she was soft, throbbing and _alive._ Madeleine’s pulse quickened against her lips, and as she fumbled with the buttons on his trousers, he finally, _finally_ began to assist in his disrobement.

As he unfastened the bothersome garment, their mouths joined again, rough and needy despite the pure affection in their hearts. There seemed to be an unspoken drive between them – a litany of _moremoremore_ – and once Madeleine’s trousers fell to his knees, he hefted up Fantine’s frock and shift and bunched them around her hips.

“Please,” she begged into his kiss. Licking at his mouth, she burrowed against him as if trying to get closer, her hands giving his waist an impatient yank.

Guilt and common sense no longer deterred Madeleine. If anything, he was being led by the sharp, overwhelming need that raged within him, licking white-hot throughout his limbs. He fell with her against the desk, pinning her in place before thrusting forward with a harsh, throaty cry. He held down Fantine’s arms and moved within her, grunting against her neck as she rolled her hips up to meet with the desperate, frantic rutting between her thighs.

Tilting her head back, Fantine closed her eyes and gasped. She felt overwhelmed – _weightless_ – and as she rocked into each forceful thrust, she nearly sobbed from the long-awaited closeness…of _finally_ having Madeleine in this way. His grip on her wrists loosened up, and with trembling hands, she attempted to unfasten his shirt. She desired the thrill of skin-on-skin contact, but Madeleine was quick to re-seize both of her wrists. He slammed them back down by either side of her head, the message clear: she was _not_ to touch him.

Trying her best not to take offense, Fantine squirmed beneath his weight and dug her heels into his lower back, gathering him up inside her again and again as he moved.

“Please,” she choked out, breathless, “I need…I-I need…” His thumb came to her bud then and she whimpered, seizing up along with the added stimulation. Madeleine burned a trail of kisses along her neck, and she wriggled against him, managing to grit out, “Your name… _please._ I must know…”

For one terrifying moment, Madeleine believed she had somehow figured him out. But as she laid there, gasping and attempting to kiss whatever part of him she could reach, he came to the conclusion that no, she did not – she merely wished for an intimacy that he had afforded no one else.

Fantine began to throb and tighten around him, and with a low groan, Madeleine momentarily lost his rhythm. “I…uh…” Gritting his teeth, he circled her bud with his thumb and caught his breath, their eyes locking as he finally managed, “It’s…i-it’s Jean…”

“Jean,” she whispered back, her tone hushed and reverent. Fantine’s eyes misted, and then she suddenly cried out, her back arching as his hand between her legs sent her over the edge. With her clenching around his cock, Madeleine was not long in following after. He dropped his face into the crook of her neck, and then as his body tightened like a bowstring, his release spilled between her thighs while he attempted to disengage. Stubbornly, Fantine pulled him back toward her, their mouths joining as they shared a soft, sated groan.

Wilting against the desk, the two lovers laid there a moment, silent and struggling for breath.

“Fantine,” Madeleine whispered, pressing another kiss to her mouth. “Are you all right?”

She withdrew from him with a bright smile, her eyes sparkling as she traced her thumb along his cheek. “Yes,” she assured him. _“Far_ more than all right.”

Touched by her girlish glee, Madeleine shakily pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, then moved to wipe the thick, drying mess from between her legs. She flinched a little at the contact, still sensitive.

“Do you have plans for supper, Fantine?”

She regarded him beneath heavy lashes, watching as he balled up the handkerchief and tossed it into the trash. Flushing, she shook her head. Madeleine looked positively wild – _ravished_ – and it thrilled her to know she was responsible.

“Would you like to dine with me then?” he asked. The wild look remained in his eyes, and he reached out to cup her cheek.

A surge of affection swelled within her breast, and Fantine nodded, trying her best not to cry. She knew this was uncomfortable for Madeleine – she _knew_ he found this sort of thing difficult – and yet here he was, tearing down his walls for the sake of _her_ needs and hers alone.

Curling her hand around his wrist, Fantine beamed up at him and whispered, “I would be delighted.”

* * *

When Gabrielle was asked to prepare a dinner for two, she hadn’t seemed the slightest bit surprised. In fact, she was positively delighted – she adored Fantine – and was singing when she set the table for the unorthodox couple.

After she’d left the room (and not without sparing them one final glance), Fantine smiled and inclined her head. “Why must we be so far apart?” she asked. “Now that I have held you in my arms, this table feels far too large.”

Madeleine lifted his soup spoon. His eyes danced with amusement, and the corner of his mouth quirked. “You may sit by my side, if you prefer.”

Elated, Fantine grinned and gathered up her bowl and goblet, careful not to spill as she relocated to his left side. “If I were not concerned with Gabrielle being so close by, I would rest-assuredly kiss you,” she whispered. To her delight, a slight flush crept up his neck and cheeks.

“You forget yourself,” Madeleine warned. “When we are not alone, you mustn’t ever-”

She swooped in and kissed his cheek, startling him into silence. Just as quickly, Fantine returned to her seat and beamed, finally lifting her soup spoon. “You were saying?”

“Wretched girl…” Chuckling, Madeleine raised his own spoon to his lips, but that was when the low, gentle roar of raindrops began drumming against the rooftop. Glancing to his right, he swore softly when he noted the state of the outdoors. Rain beat down steadily against the windows, and out in the garden, the trees bent and swayed from the storm.

Fantine bit her lip to hide a smile. “More alone time then, I presume? _Jean?”_

Madeleine glanced over at her. Ever since his admission, she had taken great pleasure in saying his name, dropping it into casual conversation as often as she could. Though it had been mere hours since their coupling, his name – his _true_ name – still sounded so oddly sweet coming from her lips.

“I, uh…I believe so, yes,” Madeleine agreed, beginning to eat almost mechanically. “I wouldn’t dream of sending you out into such foul weather.”

Fantine smiled, far too delighted to eat. “Will Gabrielle be preparing my usual room?”

“Yes, yes, uh…” He trailed off then, suddenly getting her meaning. A pleasant heat flooded his face and he cleared his throat, nodding slowly. “Yes, Fantine. Your usual room.”

“In my own bed?”

“Your own…uh…w-well…yes, naturally.”

Fantine pouted. “Are you certain, Jean?”

He flushed more deeply. _“Yes,_ Fantine. Your _own_ room in your _own_ bed. Show some propriety.”

The two shared a meaningful glance, then returned to their meals in silence.

* * *

Fantine rolled off of Madeleine and landed on her back, gasping for breath as she allowed the afterglow to consume her. Feeling Madeleine pulling her into his arms, she hummed and embraced him as he kissed her neck. “For what it’s worth, you’ve proven you are _far_ from an old man,” she teased.

He chuckled against her skin. “And yet, I remain convinced that you’re trying to kill me, Fantine.”

Pleased, she curled a leg around his hip and tangled her fingers through his hair, thrilling in their closeness – or at least, the level of closeness he had allowed. Even now, alone in Madeleine’s large four-poster bed, she was still the only one fully naked. He had removed his pants and waistcoat, but his shirt stubbornly remained. He seemed incapable of changing his mind. Unfortunately for Madeleine, he wasn’t yet aware of just how determined she could be.

“You have not allowed me to see you,” Fantine whispered. Her fingers trailed down his cheek, and Madeleine withdrew enough to regard her in alarm.

“You can see plenty,” he said, feigning ignorance.

With a frown, Fantine rose and sat up in bed, the sheets slipping down and baring her body within the warm, pleasant glow of lamplight. Her long, wavy hair cascaded over her back and shoulders, and she leaned over Madeleine, forcing him to return her gaze.

“I don’t care what it is,” she whispered. “In case you have forgotten, I’ve already felt you – I _know_ you are scarred.”

Madeleine winced. “Fantine…”

“I am scarred, too,” she persisted. “Though it may not be evident on my flesh, mine run deep in horrible, jagged caverns across my heart. It is painful, Jean, but nothing to be ashamed of.” Eyes pleading with him, she laid a hand over his chest, her thumb gently toying with one of his buttons. “I desire you – _all_ of you – but ultimately, the choice must be your own. Will you not show me?”

The room was silent for a long while. Madeleine gazed up at her, helpless and unmoving, save for the short, fitful spasms of breath between his ribs. His heart was pounding so strongly that he knew she had to feel it. With wet, shining eyes, Madeleine’s throat worked reflexively, and then he finally managed a nod. “Yes,” he rasped. _Anything for you, Fantine._

A look of tenderness filled her face, and careful in her movements, Fantine straddled his waist and began unfastening his shirt. Madeleine felt dizzy. Unable to look at her, he directed his gaze up toward the ceiling and trembled, barely able to breathe as little by little, the chill of exposure rushed over his torso.

Outside, a clap of thunder roared in accordance with his drumming heart. “Fantine,” he pleaded.

She spared him a fond smile, then leaned over and pressed an appeasing kiss to his mouth. “It’s almost over,” she promised. The final button gave way, and then she parted his shirt with a careful, reverent sweeping of palms. Her fingers first traced along a thin, rope-like scar. It lanced starkly across his chest – a cut from a blade or whip, if she had to presume. Bending over, she brushed her lips across the raised flesh in slow, fervent exploration. She felt Madeleine’s breath hitch and she lifted her head. “May I?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he nodded. “Yes…”

Drifting her touch toward a worn, circular-shaped mark, Fantine’s heart pinched when she realized it must be a burn. Who would have _burned_ her dear Jean? Trying to mask the tears in her eyes, she once more stooped over and kissed at whatever broken, shivering inch he would allow. Her tongue darted out against his skin and he flinched, his fingers knotting through her hair for stability.

Again and again Fantine kissed new blemishes. Each seemed more horrible than the last, and with a soft sob in her throat, she traced her fingers over every affliction, committing his ruined flesh to memory. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish I could take it all away…”

Madeleine opened his eyes again. A bloom of warmth filled his soul at the sight of her, and lifting his shaking hands to cup her face, he managed a smile while tracing his thumbs over her soft, rosy cheeks. “I daresay you already have,” he murmured. Their eyes met, and his chest ached at a new realization: he loved her. His cracked, defiant heart had mended, and he _loved_ this caring, stubborn girl more than he could scarcely stand.

A lone tear trickled down Fantine’s cheek, and he promptly wiped it away. “You have shown me so much on this night,” she whispered, “and I feel…I-I _know_ I owe you the same courtesy.”

Madeleine’s brow scrunched. “How do you mean?”

“I have not been truthful.” Ashamed, she lowered her eyes. “I said I was all alone in this world, but…I am not. For you see, there is another – a very, _very_ dear person whom I ache for having kept from you.”

Madeleine stilled. Hands slowly falling from her face, he peered up at her in dismay. “There is another man?”

Fantine quickly shook her head, stricken. “No, no, _never!_ There is only you, Jean,” she promised. Chin quivering, she reached down and took his hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I spoke of having scars earlier… When I was a young, foolish girl, I gave my heart to a man who had no intention of ever marrying me. He made me believe…th-that is to say…I _thought_ he loved me, so I had no qualms with giving him my mind, body and soul.”

Madeleine frowned, his palms growing clammy. “Yes, you’ve already spoken of your lost virtue,” he said. The words were spat from his lips like bile.

Shoulders curling, Fantine drew a breath. “Yes, well…after loving him for so long, a child was born from our union…my beloved Cosette.” The tears fell more freely now. “I have given her to a nice couple during my absence, a-and I am waiting for the moment when I can finally care for her on my own.” Lifting her eyes again, she observed Madeleine’s ashen face with dread. “Please say something…”

A _child?_ Madeleine’s heart stammered in his chest. Despite the raging jealousy that burned and coiled between his ribs, the woebegone, pleading look in her eyes instantly doused that envy. She was here with him. She wanted _him._

After a long moment, Madeleine squeezed her hands. “We’ll bring her here,” he decided. “At morning’s light, I will go and fetch your Cosette.”

Fantine blinked back at him in stunned disbelief, not quite sure if she had heard him correctly. _“Here,_ Jean? Y-you mean…to live?”

Unable to help it, Madeleine smiled at her response. “Yes, you silly girl, _here_ – with the two of us. A mother and child should be together, should they not?”

Far too ebullient to properly answer, Fantine threw her arms around his neck and sobbed her thanks, only pausing to rain kisses across his face. “I will make it up to you, I swear it!” she cried. “Oh, Jean, Jean, _Jean,_ you are a wonder!”

Her praise caused a fissure of guilt to lance through his chest. His affections had blinded him, and now he was in too deep – Madeleine knew her secret, but she had yet to know his.

Curling his arms around Fantine’s shoulders, Madeleine pressed his cheek down into her hair and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, SO much to everyone who's commented! <3 It truly means the world to me. I had admittedly put this on the backburner (I'm working on a few original works at the moment), but then I got three lovely reviews, and it kick-started my muse. I originally only had half of the first scene, so thanks to your sweet feedback, I was somehow able to blaze through an entire chapter today. There's just one more to go! Hopefully I can write this one far more quickly.
> 
> P.S. I don't normally write fluff (my ships aren't usually this soft), so I'm VERY out of practice. And even though this was a lot of fun, I still can't help but cringe at what I've created. haha


	4. To Have and to Hold

When Madeleine returned with Cosette, it was a day as warm and effulgent as the smile on Fantine’s face. As a swell of emotion formed in his throat, he realized he would do anything for that smile.

She came racing toward them up the garden path, openly sobbing before falling at their feet. “Oh, Cosette, my Cosette!” she cried, cupping the child’s face and pressing kiss after kiss upon her brow. “Oh, let me look at you…” Drawing back, she beheld the girl’s wide, crystalline eyes – eyes so much like her own – and long, golden curls. As Fantine stroked her daughter’s hair, it glistened like captured sunlight beneath her palm. “Did they treat you well, my darling?”

Madeleine’s smile faded, and to his relief, Cosette merely beamed and threw her arms around her mother’s neck, the doll he’d given her clutched protectively between her fingers.

Sniveling, Fantine pressed her cheek into the girl’s crown. “I was so worried you might’ve forgotten me, little one.”

“I knew you’d come back, Mama,” Cosette said, her tone swimming with the optimism that only children possessed. “And Papa gave me a gift, see? Look!” Withdrawing, she grinned and lifted the porcelain doll. “Her name is Catherine!”

“Papa?” Looking to Madeleine for clarification, Fantine’s heart swelled when he shyly ducked his gaze.

“We, uh…we _bonded,_ it would seem,” he said, still appearing shy and uncertain. “Your Cosette truly is a wonder.”

Biting her lip, Fantine grinned and teased, “You are quite adept at stealing hearts, it would seem. Come…why don’t we all go inside? I know Gabrielle is making dinner.” Cosette impatiently tried to show her Catherine again, and Fantine laughed, sheepish. “I’m so sorry, my sweet girl…Catherine is beautiful, and I know I’ll be very jealous of her, indeed. I hope she isn’t to have all your attentions?”

Cosette smiled again and shook her head. “No,” she promised. “Papa said he’ll teach me to read and write, so I can’t play with her then.”

“Really?” Sparing Madeleine another fond glance, Fantine said, “He is teaching me, as well. Perhaps we can both have our lessons at the same time.”

“Ooh, yes, yes!” Cosette cried. Hugging Catherine to her chest, she added, “I am so very excited. I never got to see books at the inn.”

“Never?” Looking to Madeleine with concern, Fantine decided, “Well, I suppose that isn’t so unusual…it is a place to sleep and dine, not a library.” She rose and held out her hand, which Cosette readily accepted (despite the imposition of Catherine). “Are you hungry, darling?”

“Yes.” Turning her head, Cosette smiled and offered her other hand to Madeleine. “You’re coming too, Papa.”

“Ah…a command, is it?” Chuckling, Madeleine tried to ignore the lightness in his chest while taking hold of the girl’s small, calloused hand. Though she was terribly young, he felt a kinship with Cosette over their shared abuse and neglect. In the matter of Cosette’s mistreatment, he had made her swear to never tell Fantine the truth, because she would rest-assuredly blame herself and fall into despair. There was no sense in dwelling on what couldn’t be changed.

As the trio walked hand in hand, Madeleine caught Fantine beaming at him. The lightness in his chest blossomed and he smiled, wishing to kiss her beneath the trees and endless blue sky.

* * *

Four weeks passed, and Madeleine found himself hopelessly, endlessly enamored by his new family. He didn’t dare call them as such aloud, because he had never had a family – or more aptly put, anyone he _loved_ – so he feared that just the slightest acknowledgement would cause his newfound bliss to shatter.

Fantine warmed and delighted him, and little Cosette filled his heart to bursting. Madeleine didn’t think it possible to love as much as he loved them, and yet any time they were near, his scars became invisible – the hurt vanished and his soul soared and he felt reborn, no longer punished by the sins of his past, but rather _rewarded_ by the two shining jewels that twinkled and reflected in both his eyes.

Just like her mother, Cosette was terribly bright and sharp-witted. She caught on to things very quickly, and just within their first month of lessons alone, she was already able to read a book of fairytales while he dragged his finger along.

On this particular day, Madeleine sat in his study waiting for Cosette. He knew she’d been out gardening with Fantine, and she tended to be late on those days (not that he minded). There was something wholly endearing about the dirt smudged on her face, frock, and grit beneath her fingernails, so he awaited her presence with a smile.

But when Cosette finally entered the room, she was crying. A bloom of panic formed within his breast, and Madeleine drew up clumsily from his seat. “What is it?” he demanded. “What’s the matter, sweet girl?”

With fat, hot tears coursing down her cheeks, Cosette was so distraught that she could only manage a mournful, “D-d-d- _dead!”_

Alarmed, Madeleine made his way over to her in an instant. “What’s dead? Please…dry your eyes.” Retrieving his handkerchief, he stooped down and dabbed at her face with a shaky hand. “There now, are you all right? Can you speak?”

Nodding, Cosette’s bottom lip quivered, and she took his hand. Madeleine could tell she wished for him to follow, so he obeyed the silent request, his pulse drumming in his ears as she led him down the hall. What could be dead, he wondered? He had never seen her so distraught… Surely it wasn’t Catherine? Children’s imaginations tended to run wild, after all.

As these questions swirled through his head, Cosette finally stopped and pointed with halting, shuddery breaths. There, on the floor laid a dead mouse. Madeleine felt guilted for the relief that rushed over him.

Placing a hand on Cosette’s shoulder, he fondly said, “You have a pure and tender heart, just like your mother… We can have a little funeral for it, if you’d like. How does that sound?”

Cosette’s face softened in thought, then she nodded, squeezing gratefully at his hand.

After retrieving his handkerchief, Madeleine scooped up the mouse, and then he and Cosette went out to the garden, where Fantine was still digging with delight. Though the moment she saw her daughter’s tears she lurched up, her favorite pastime forgotten.

“Cosette found a dead mouse,” Madeleine explained, hoping to ease her anguish. “We’ve decided to bury it.”

With her trowel still clutched between her fingers, the color gradually returned to Fantine’s face and she looked down at Cosette, smiling tenderly at the girl’s tear-swollen eyes. “Oh, my sweet angel,” she crooned. “Come now, bring the mouse over here…we can bury it where I’ve just dug, and then these flowers will grow over top. See?” She indicated the row of golden daffodils, then the seeds in her palm. “Your little friend will know nothing but peace.”

By now, Cosette had mostly stopped crying, and she shuffled forward with the handkerchief. Fantine stooped to kiss her, and then after she took the faux coffin, she got on her knees and began to dig. As she did so, she and Madeleine shared a meaningful glance. Death wasn’t a welcome companion for someone as young and tender-hearted as Cosette. They prayed she wouldn’t experience it again for a long, long time.

* * *

The following week, Cosette clung to Madeleine much more than usual. He didn’t know if it was because of his efforts with the mouse, or because she really, genuinely enjoyed his companionship, but whatever the true reason, he wasn’t about to begrudge her added company.

After Fantine left the room with Gabrielle, both chatting excitedly about Cosette’s latest accomplishments, the young girl slid from her chair and approached Madeleine with purpose. Slowly, he lowered his book, looking up at her with a raised brow. “Yes, my dear?”

Her expression was both soft and steadfast. “When are you going to marry Mama?”

Nearly dropping his book, Madeleine breathed a stunned laugh. When Cosette didn’t laugh along with him, he realized that she was wholly serious. “Oh…w-well…”

“She loves you, I can tell,” Cosette said, “and I love you as well, Papa. Aren’t we a family?”

Upon hearing the treasured words he’d always yearned for, Madeleine’s chin quivered and he nearly embraced the girl on the spot. Calmly, he managed to ask instead, “Is that what you want, Cosette? For us to be a family?”

She nodded, her bright curls bouncing.

His chest grew tight with emotion, and Madeleine beamed, reaching out to fondly tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, I suppose I’d better ask your mother then. You can be quiet about it until I do, can’t you?”

Eyes lighting up, Cosette eagerly nodded again, her lips splitting into a charming grin.

* * *

When Madeleine found Fantine that evening, she was submerged in the copper tub in his bedroom. Humming softly under her breath, she rubbed at her skin with scented oils, her long hair swimming around her waist as she moved.

“Hello, Fantine,” Madeleine greeted, his voice warm and soft. Shutting the door behind him, he strode over to her and smiled, meeting with her bright gaze as she flashed him a smile of her own.

“I was wondering when you’d come up,” she said, her tone full of mock admonishment. “I like it when you wash my hair.”

Dutiful, Madeleine grabbed the stool that he used for exactly that, his pulse quickening as he sat upon it and drew in closer. Even now, after all these weeks of intimacy, being so near to her could instantly set his soul aflame.

“When I was in town with Cosette this afternoon, I heard her say something…something not very nice,” Fantine announced.

“Oh?” Madeleine’s brow creased and he snatched the soap, lathering it across his palms. He whisked his hands through her hair and she hummed, relaxing despite the crease between her brows.

“Yes,” Fantine finally spoke again. “It was a word she certainly didn’t learn from _me,_ so the mind wonders…”

Madeleine tried his best not to smile. “And what did she say?”

“Goodness! You actually wish me to repeat it?” In spite of herself, Fantine was smiling too. “It was a word that rhymes with ‘witch,’ and although the woman in question deserved it, I _certainly_ told Cosette she wouldn’t be having dessert all week. She can’t go around calling people names!”

Madeleine frowned. “And what did this woman do?”

“Oh, you know how people are…she had heard rumors about me – about _us_ – so she said something rather unkind. Cosette took offense.”

This time, the smile Madeleine wore was unmistakable. “Good on her.”

“Oh, Jean, no!” Laughing, Fantine further reclined and beamed, closing her eyes as his fingers passed over her temples in a careful, tender caress. “You really _are_ a terrible influence sometimes, you know. She worships the very ground you walk on, so next time, try and watch your words around her, won’t you?”

Madeleine smiled. “Since I adore her as well, I shall do my very best.” Lifting a handful of water, he carefully streamed it down over Fantine’s long, wavy locks, his pulse racing at the look of utter contentment on her face. “As it turns out, I spoke with Cosette today, as well.”

“Oh?”

Fumblingly, he weighed his words, then nodded. “Yes. What do you think of matrimony, Fantine?”

Her eyes opened and she looked up at him, startled. _“Marriage?_ As in…?”

“The two of us,” Madeleine concluded, flinching at the uncertainty in his tone. “Cosette was the one to broach the subject, but I can wholeheartedly assure you that it’s been on my mind for a long while now.”

Fantine’s lips lifted and exposed the bright, dazzling smile he had grown to worship. “You would truly have me? And Cosette?” she asked.

Gaze softening, Madeleine assured her, “I would have no one else.”

A bloom of warmth filled Fantine’s chest and she turned in the tub, intent on better seeing his face. “What I think,” she gently began, “is that you are a man unlike any other.”

Laying a hand against his cheek, she brushed her thumb along the curve of his face. He was perfect – _hers!_ – and she lifted to press a grateful kiss to his mouth.

Catching hold of her shoulders, Madeleine staggered somewhat, always awed that someone so beautiful, so _divine_ could even wish to touch him. As her fingers gripped at his lapels, the kiss grew more demanding, causing him to groan softly and fumble for her supple frame. Her hands trailed down his back and he hitched a soft, quaking breath between their kiss.

When she withdrew again, he had to catch himself against the rim of the tub. With a low chuckle, he feebly asked, “Was that a yes?”

Grinning, she helped him up with a laugh. _“Yes!_ Yes, you silly oaf, of course I’ll marry you!”

The danger of wet clothing be damned, Madeleine drew her in for another kiss.

* * *

When Fantine appeared in her wedding dress with fretful, mothering Gabrielle at her side, Madeleine was overcome by a strong urge to weep. Never before had he felt so vulnerable, so _loved,_ nor as whole as he did while gazing upon his wife-to-be. By some inexplicable stroke of good fortune, he had found someone – nay, _two_ people – to love him, and the affection in his heart was nearly as dazzling as the sunshine in Fantine’s eyes.

They joined hands, and then the ceremony – a quiet affair between the three of them and Gabrielle – formally began.

When the officiant finally told Madeleine to kiss Fantine, Cosette giggled and hid behind her hands.

* * *

During the second month of marriage, Javert re-entered Madeleine’s life. There was no clear recognition on the inspector’s part, and yet Madeleine found himself becoming more withdrawn and closed-off. No longer did he take his family to plays or parties, if only to avoid the dangers of scrutiny. He could _not_ have himself discovered…not when he finally felt so wholly _alive._

Unfortunately for Madeleine, it didn’t take long for his wife to notice. Over the course of their time together, Fantine had grown incredibly in tune with his moods and habits, and questioned even the slightest deviation. How long could he hope to evade the truth? Least especially when the freedom to speak – _truly_ speak of his horrors – would undoubtedly bring him peace?

“Papa, you’re not listening!”

Jerking to attention, Madeleine guiltily looked over at Cosette, who was grinning at him with an admonishing twinkle in her eye. She sat at the family piano, paused mid-note. Ever since his engagement to Fantine, Cosette had been taking lessons (this was unfortunately one bit of wisdom he couldn’t impart on his own), and the result was truly remarkable. Cosette could play very well (and passionately), and delighted in giving her daily concerts. Madeleine felt guilty for not being able to enjoy these as of late.

“Forgive me,” he apologized, flashing a sheepish smile. “Please continue, Cosette.”

She beamed, then returned to playing Bach with verve.

Fantine met his gaze from across the room, frowning at the exchange. “Cosette,” she spoke after a moment, “you must excuse us. Your papa and I need to go upstairs for a bit.”

Cosette stopped playing, a pout pursing her mouth. “Must you take a nap _now?”_ she bemoaned. “I still have a few pages left!”

Fantine flushed, drawing herself up from the settee. “Keep playing then, darling. You do not need an audience.”

Madeleine spared Cosette an encouraging smile, then followed Fantine toward the staircase. “I told you that calling our trysts ‘naps’ would backfire,” he teased, hoping to ease whatever admonishment was coming.

As he expected, Fantine was not amused. “I didn’t want to speak candidly,” she said. “Or at least, not around Cosette…not until I knew how you would react.”

“To what?” Madeleine asked, leading her up the stairs.

“To this…being cornered.” Expression softening, Fantine shook her head. “You haven’t been yourself in quite some time, and I would implore you – nay, _beg_ you to tell me, should the fault lay upon my shoulders.”

Madeleine halted at the top of the stairs, aghast. “My internal battles are _no_ fault of yours,” he promised. “If anything, you have soothed my aggravations.”

“Then why the withdrawal?” she asked. “Is married life not to your expectation? Do you no longer wish to confide in me, now that we share a life?”

Swallowing low in his throat, Madeleine shook his head. “Nothing could be further from the truth,” he assured her. “I just…I-I have carried these burdens for so long, that it nearly seems impossible to share them with another.”

Taking his hands, Fantine earnestly begged, _“Try,_ Jean. Your soul is my own – your _burdens_ are my own – so why not let me help you?”

Shoulders sagging, Madeleine sighed and indicated that she follow. “The hall is no place for this,” he muttered. “Cosette will be expecting us in our room, so let us retire for a bit.”

Fantine nodded. Despite his promise for transparency, her heart was in her throat when they entered their private quarters. The moment Madeleine shut the door behind them, the knocking in her chest increased.

“Well?” she asked. “Will you not tell me?”

Wearily, he regarded her with sad, resigned eyes. “I am uncertain of how to properly explain myself,” he admitted. “This secret has been buried so deeply within me that I fear it shan’t ever resurface.”

Fantine frowned, threading her fingers together. “Does this have anything to do with your scars?”

Madeleine ducked his chin and nodded. “Yes…it was all part of my punishment.”

“For what?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed and looked up at her again. “A long while ago, I was imprisoned for thievery. Inspector Javert oversaw my stint, and by some miracle of God, I was granted a new chance.” Barely able to return her gaze, Madeleine’s shoulders hunkered. “Javert is back in town, and I fear he will realize who and what I am.”

“I see…” Fantine’s chin quivered. “And you have done something that could lead to your arrest again?”

Madeleine hesitated, then nodded once more.

Releasing a breath, she placed a hand over her chest and mirrored his nod. “Very well…then we should start looking for a new home at once. Perhaps in London?”

Bemused, Madeleine looked up again and frowned. “Why are you endangering yourself for me? I was a _thief,_ Fantine, and-”

“Yes, exactly,” she cut in. “You _were_ a thief. The only thing you have stolen since is my heart, Jean. I care not for what you have done prior – I know you, and you are a good, kind man.” She smiled tearfully. “You are precisely what Cosette and I need. Would you truly deprive us of the man we love so dearly?”

Madeleine’s heart stammered in his chest. “You truly care not for my past? You would _truly_ uproot and leave town, just to remain by my side?”

Taking his hands by way of answer, Fantine rose on tiptoe and pressed a soft, appeasing kiss to his mouth. “Always,” she whispered.

Overcome, Madeleine drew her into his arms and buried his face into her neck, the couple clinging to one another with an almost needy desperation. Fantine’s fingers wove through his hair, and then her lips pressed fondly to his temple.

“You know,” she coyly began, “Cosette _does_ think we are up here taking a nap…we might as well succumb, don’t you think?”

Unable to help it, Madeleine chuckled. “For you, I would succumb ten times over.” Lifting Fantine’s willing body into his arms, he carried her over to their shared bed, and then the two lovers gave in to their desires.

* * *

A few months later, Madeleine and his family had relocated to a pleasant, yet unassuming home in London. It had been Fantine’s wish to live somewhere less opulent, and he had been all too happy to give her whatever her pure, tender heart desired.

In all his wildest dreams, Madeleine had never dreamed of being a father – a _real_ one – but now it was his joyous reality. With Cosette on his knee and Fantine pressed into his side, he grinned while the former leaned down and listened to her mother’s round, swollen belly.

“I think I can hear her!” Cosette exclaimed. “There’s a bit of a gurgly sound, but the baby says hi!”

Chuckling, Madeleine asked, “And what if it’s a boy?”

Cosette looked up at him and scrunched her nose. “Don’t worry, it’s not.”

Laughing softly, Fantine stroked her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “You might be right, my darling. As you’ll one day learn, boys are stubborn and difficult, and thus far, this little one has been quite easy to endure.”

Madeleine arched a brow. “You find me stubborn and difficult?”

 _“Horrendously_ so. But at least you’re handsome.” Pressing a placating kiss to his mouth, Fantine beamed and cupped the growing life in her belly. “What do you think, Cosette? What should we name her?”

“Marguerite!” she exclaimed, bouncing on Madeleine’s knee.

He fondly rubbed her back. “And what about a boy’s name?”

“I tell you, it _won’t_ be a boy!”

“Surely the good Lord won’t be so unkind,” he teased. “I’ll need a son in order to win arguments on occasion. I cannot be outnumbered forever!” Catching Fantine’s admonishing look, he assured them, “But the name Marguerite sounds absolutely lovely. You’re always so clever, Cosette.”

She beamed, basking in his praise. “Is this your favorite moment, Papa?”

For a brief spell, Madeleine was genuinely taken aback by the question. “My favorite moment?”

Cosette nodded, her blonde curls bouncing. “Yes. Do you even _have_ one? I think this one’s mine.”

 _Your favorite moment…_ What was the first moment, Madeleine wondered, when his life finally began? Was it the first time he looked into the starlight of Fantine’s heavenly eyes, or when she stumbled in through his manor door, trembling and shy amidst his gruff coldness? Was it maybe when she first cupped his face in her hands and _forced_ him to meet her gaze, begging and pleading and _reaching_ beyond his unscalable walls? Or perhaps it was the first time Madeleine, Cosette and Fantine sat down for dinner together as a family, laughing and giggling over absolutely _nothing_ other than the sheer _joy_ of being so near to one another.

No, Madeleine realized, he _couldn’t_ think of one single moment that exceeded them all – there were far too many…far too much _happiness_ in every point in time. His heart could barely contain it all.

Trying to ignore the lump in his throat, Madeleine tucked one of Cosette’s sunshine curls behind her ear.

“Your favorite moment, Papa?” she prodded, looking to him in expectance.

Returning Fantine’s gaze with a tender smile, he whispered, “All of them – every single one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, so I was worried I'd never get this finished! Your kind words have truly helped in ways you'll never know, and I'm SO, SO, SO appreciative! With this fic, I had a bad habit of updating every two months, so I was a little early this time! But only by 23 days lol. Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 Valjean and Fantine deserved happiness!
> 
> I'd also like to take a moment to give a shout-out to ladymelodrama, who is honestly the only reason I bothered continuing past chapter one. **She's written a BEAUTIFUL Valjean x Fantine one-shot,** and I encourage you all to check it out! You won't be disappointed! https://archiveofourown.org/works/24717367


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